Doing the right thing is so very hard...

The biopsy was negative.  Christ be praised!

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Why is it that oft the right things are so very hard to do?  I have been thinking on a matter for a couple of months, have spoken about it for a while, and am now facing its reality.  Tomorrow night, I will be giving away Sam and Madeleine.

See Sam?  He's leaning forward to come for a visit.  Madeleine is away up top, always in the back ground, always watching what's going on.  Sam?  He's the flirt; he's the friendly one who just wants to hang out.

I have known for a while now that caring for birds is something at which I am no longer excelling.  It is not unusual for me to discover their water is dirty.  It is not unusual for me to find their food bowl completely empty.  And their cage has not been as clean as it should be for the past year.  I forget. I forget to tend to them.  Amos, well, he can tell me if he is hungry or thirsty.  But Sam and Madeleine do not.  Each time I have found that their needs have gone unmet by my own inadvertent neglect, my heart has become a bit more distressed over them.  Cockatiels can live a long, long time if cared for.  But all birds are fragile creatures or all small birds are. Their metabolisms are so fast that they have to be carefully monitored and tended.  My brain, the changes therein, no longer allow me to do so.

As I said, I started thinking about giving Sam and Madeleine a while ago, wondering if I was being a bit dramatic about finding the dirty water or the empty bowl and wondering if I could actually watch them being carried out the door.  Mostly, I know I am not wrong about them needing better care.  And I know that this will be a very, very, very hard right thing to do.

After thinking about it, I started talking to myself.  I know.  Strange.  However, I wanted to rehearse actually talking about it with others. To hear the words in my own ears.  They were hard and scary for me.  I do believe, however, that the Loestrin is, in part, responsible for me taking the next step of starting to ask around, to see if I might find them a good home.

I could sell them. I could sell them and the cage and the carrier and the playpen and the food and get a significant amount of money. However, more important than money to me (even with all these blasted medical bills) would be knowing I am placing them in a home where they would still have significant amount of time outside of the cage and have copious amounts of interaction, where they would be pets, not ornaments, as birds sometimes can be.

My Good Shepherd has showered me with truly unfathomable mercy by bringing a young man who has longed for his own birds.  He used to work at the zoo and is now a vet tech at a local clinic.  He is very excited about them and has asked permission to transition them to a more natural diet (a very good thing but more work).  Not only will they continue to have a fair amount of freedom, they will truly have better care than I can even give them now, much less in the years to come.

Truly, were I to put a list of qualities and experience together, I could not have come up with a better person other than, perhaps, an aviary veterinary.  His experience at the zoo, his friendship with the vet there, his current job, his genuine longing to own birds, and his desire to transition them to a natural diet all make up the perfect person for Sam and Madeleine.

Sam, being such a skinny little fellow, will have a hawk's eye on his person to ensure he keeps his slight girth up.  Both of them will be cherished.  I am fairly certain that Brian will woo Madeleine to be more communicative, more interactive.  I know he will do anything to make them happy and that he will want the best for them as long as they are with him.  What more could a birdie momma want?

I do feel as if in finding this caring person, who is truly all that I could wish for in a new home for my birds, God is telling me, Myrtle, you are not alone. I, too, want the best for My creation.  For them and for you.




Lord, I believe.  Help my unbelief!